


Mushroom Punches IV: A Bride with No Morels

by CinnamonQuartz



Series: Mushroom Punches [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Light Spanking, Romance, Sarcasm, Wedding Fluff, tiramisù
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:15:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24515233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnamonQuartz/pseuds/CinnamonQuartz
Summary: Invites? Check. Cake? Check. Champagne fountain? Check. Dress? Check. Getting super drunk at her bachelorette party and accidentally dismembering her future husband's goodies? Uh... unfortunately... check. Fluffy and sassy one shot in the Mushroom Punches series that can absolutely be read alone! Enjoy!
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson
Series: Mushroom Punches [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734322
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	Mushroom Punches IV: A Bride with No Morels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [checkered_roses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkered_roses/gifts).



Pansy Parkinson-soon-to-be-Longbottom cackled like the drunken maniac she was all the way up the stone pathway that led to the home she shared with the aforementioned Longbottom. A quaint, private cottage perfect for them both. One surrounded by gardens they tended to, including a new experimental greenhouse Neville built _just_ for her.

The sash over her front said 'Same Penis Forever' and the fake ass tiara on her head was definitely crooked. Like her favorite future husband's smile often was.

When Neville smiled, the left edge of his lips always went up higher than his right. It made her swoon. Even when she wasn't drunk as a skunk. From her baller bachelorette party her best friends had just thrown in her honor.

"I'm getting married in two days!" she shouted out loud. Though Ginny Weasley had just dropped her off, making sure she got home safely, and there was no one else around to hear her. Just the night sky and the tall trees. She just needed to make it up the stairs and then she was getting s.l.u.t.t.y.

Neville was going to GET IT. She was wearing a sexy as hell scarlet red dress that was short. Really short. Lacy too. In _allllll_ the right places. And a string that some might call a thong had been riding up her buttcrack all night. Add in a plunging neckline that showed off her killer breasts she spent several hours trying to perk up just for the night out.

Plus her hair hadn't looked this good in, well, _ever_. She'd blown it out. With a hair dryer! That thing hadn't seen the light of day since she was a teenager. Her short, rich black hair looked wavy and voluminous and bounced around her head like a halo. Her lips were puckered up with a lip-stick charm that held up against hours of doing shots, dancing up on some questionable male strippers, and… oh yeah. More shots.

Did she mention she was drunk? It gave her a hell of a flush.

And also, she was too old to be dancing like that. Her knees hurt. But she didn't care.

Inside her head was club music, _unce unce unce_ , and her sole mission in life was to find her fiancé, undress him, and absolutely ride that man's dick until the morning. Which wasn't that far off.

Because they were getting married in TWO DAYS. All the planning was _done_. It was time to celebrate.

Pansy stepped up, once, twice, and tripped into the front door, plastering herself against it as she tried to find her footing. Weird how her ankles didn't want to work after being strapped into 4 inch heels all night. So weird! What a mystery! Finding her footing took a long minute, but eventually she pulled her key out and got the door open, stumbling in and almost falling flat on her face.

Almost.

She kicked the door closed and made for the stairs, two hands on the railing as she took each step one at a time. "Oooh _Neville_ ," she called out, pulling herself up over the final step. "I'm drunk and _slutttty!_ "

He emerged down the hallway from their bedroom. Oh Jesus. Wearing plaid pajama bottoms and nothing else. His usual. Shirtless like a fucking popsicle.

His ink, the tattoo of her face on his bicep he swore up and down he hated, winked at her encouragingly. He hadn't chosen it. Her friends had. After kidnapping him the night they got engaged. What he didn't realize was she'd caught him admiring it several times. She knew the truth! It mouthed 'GET IT GIRL!' right then.

And she was. Absolutely. She was gonna lick. Him. All. Up.

His dark brown eyes bulged from his head. "Pansy? Did you go out into public like that?"

"Ya damn straight I did!" she shouted at him, pausing at the top step. Drooling. He had no fucking right looking that damn good. He sat in a damp basement all day growing mushrooms, why did his abs look so good?!

RUDE.

"It took me _5 hours_ to do this. FIVE. I called the Daily Prophet and told them if they wanted a decent picture of me _for once_ to come to the bar because I LOOK FUCKING AMAZING."

She gestured down her body, bringing attention to her amazing, shiny cleavage. Shiny from sweat and glitter and bad decisions. And perky from a lot of spellwork and tape. A whole lot.

"You didn't…" he came to the top of the stairs and offered his assistance. "You called the _Prophet_?"

"From the bathroom, with Tracey and Daphne and Ginny and Luna-who is without a doubt the weirdest chick in the universe-and I _said_ BRRRRRRRR BR BR BR BRrrrrer! Come on down to the bar because I'm table dancing with a stripppppeeeerrrr!"

"Awwwwesome….?"

She took his outstretched hands and allowed him to pull her up and into his warm embrace. He'd definitely been asleep, all bed warm and smelling like the sheets. She nuzzled her face into his smooth chest. "And you thought that was a good idea?" he asked kindly, rocking her softly.

Mmm. Man muscles. She was so about to do dirty, dirty things with this man.

"What think I a good idea?" she asked, pushing him backwards towards the bedroom. "I'm gonna quit my job and become a stripper. Starting right now, Missssssster Longbottom."

"Is that right?" he raised his eyebrow, tragically sober.

"I've been thinking about this alllll _llllll_ night," she informed him with a purr, rubbing her hands over his crotch. "You're about to, hic, _get it_ , sir."

"Get… what exactly?" he asked, keeping her balanced as he walked backwards. Eventually they made it to the bed where she pushed at his chest until he sat down.

Then she started dancing. "Unce unce unce," she repeated, wiggling and gyrating like the deviate she was. "Gonna get it. Gonna put my cock on your mouth… I mean-" she pointed down to his crotch. "MY MOUTH." Then she pointed to her face. "Your cock."

"You're insane," he laughed.

Turning around she backed up until her ass was practically in his lap and she started-or rather attempted-a twerk. His thighs felt hard beneath her rear end as he placed his hands on either side of her hips. Fingers digging into the silk of her dress. "Whoa Pansy, I dunno, I don't feel comfortable having sex when you're _this_ drunk…"

"Don't be a dud," she told him, turning around. "I am gonna be _your wife_. Your slutty tequila wife." She nearly twirled right into a face-plant. But he held her close and safe. She pulled up her dress and spread her legs, coming onto the bed to straddle him. "Unce unce unce! Your wife, my sexy, amazing, perfect dud. Stud. Ha. Dud Stud."

"I'm not being a dud, I'd hate to make you think I took advantage when you wake up in the morning," he wrapped his arms around her middle to stabilize her while she danced.

"Mmm, hic, you're right," she kept pushing up against him. "You're not a dud. You're the sexiest and most amazingest man in the world."

"Amazingest?"

"Yep, made it up. I'm awesome," she leaned in to kiss him. Going straight for it. A deep kiss that was all tongue and sucking face. She felt the rise of his cock through his pajamas until it pressed into her stomach.

He kissed her back with matching passion, until his hand slid through her bouncy hair and he tugged her head back with enough force to make her gasp. Both their lips were swollen and glistened in the soft light that came from the faery lights over the bed. "You are truly awe-inspiring, Pansy Parkinson," he said in a serious voice, eyes boring into hers with intensity.

"See?" she swooned again and definitely slurred. "I'll be the best stripper around."

"Ridiculous. Tell me you want to have sex. Be clear," he demanded.

Leaning back, she fingered her sash and brought it up between them. "See?"

"Am Pen Forever?" he raised his eyebrows, trying not to laugh.

"Guh!" she moved her fingers to the ends and held up the sash again. "Same. Penis. ."

They both burst into laughter, giggling so much the mattress bounced beneath them. She continued, "I've been thinking about you all night, future husband," she rubbed herself over hard pajamas. "Thinkin' 'bout," she hiccuped, running her fingers through his hair.

"Riding you until the sun comes up because I am _full_ of tequila and I am-" another rub. "So, so, so in love with you." She lifted one knee, meaning to slide even further into his lap. To get closer.

But she tilted too far to the other side and brought her raised knee down hard to correct her balance.

And right into his erection. Whoops.

Neville let out a squeak she didn't think was possible in his octave range, hands releasing her to cover his crotch. Without his support she tilted all the way over, falling off the bed and landing on her side. "Oooowww!" she drunkenly rolled over, trying to go right-side up and managing a front flip in the process. Her dress somehow going over her head.

Yep that was going to hurt in the morning.

Pulling the dress down, she looked up and met Neville's painful and panicked gaze. "Hospital. Now." He grunted through clenched teeth.

"Oh fuck."

.

They gave her some kind of sobering up potion at St. Mungo's, apparently it neutralized the alcohol in her blood. Within minutes she was completely sober. And _mortified_. With proper amounts of oxygen reaching her brain, she could think about her night with clarity.

She used her wand to banish the sash around her torso—seriously she was going to yell at Tracey for that one. And then she sat with Neville as he iced his crotch. His entire frame was completely tensed up, his lips pressed together as if he were trying not to throw up.

"I um… I'm really sorry Nev."

He shook his head, making a throaty noise that said nope. No talking. Nuh uh.

"Nev… oh gods," she hid her face in her hands. He was in _pain_. Pain she caused him! What the hell was the matter with her?

They'd taken his pants and given him ice. And the two seconds she caught of his swollen, disfigured cock almost made her throw up. It was so… _purple_. Like a swollen eggplant.

He made the sound again. Louder. "No talking, Pansy," he said slowly, barely moving his lips. "You broke my penis. You broke it."

Outside the window, the sky was lightening as the sun threatened to come out. They'd been there for hours waiting on a Healer. She was going stir crazy, feeling guilty, and suddenly exhausted from her night. The girls and her had gone hard the night before. Celebrating the end of her single life.

A total blast. And though she'd been drunk when she said it, it was absolutely true she'd been thinking about Nev all night. She wanted him and couldn't wait to marry him in two days. Wait! No! Tomorrow! Oh GODS. They were getting married _tomorrow_.

"I'm so sorry," she said again, looking up at him. Which turned out to be a big mistake. He looked _miserable_. Face red with pain and sweat on his brow as he tried to keep totally still. "Where the hell is the damn Healer? I'm about to go pop off, I swear to god! I AM GOING TO POP OFF."

Couldn't they have brought him a pain potion at the very least?

"No," he shook his head. Barely. A tiny head shake. All his effort was in keeping still and managing his pain. "No popping off. No moving. No nothing. Sit there. Touch no one."

"If they aren't going to _bring_ you a pain potion then I will go find one!" she called out, _needing_ to do something.

"NO." Neville yelled at her. Yelled! He so rarely raised his voice it caught her off guard. "Just sit down. Do nothing. You make things worse just by _being_."

"I… what did you say to me?" she paused in front of his bed, crossing her arms over her slinky dress. "I make things worse just by being?"

He inhaled like it hurt. "You know what I mean, Pansy, just please sit down. Don't move. Don't speak."

He meant she had an uncanny ability for making bad situations extra bad with little to no effort on her part. Well la-dee-fucking-daa. It wasn't like she hurt him on purpose! And if he didn't want her to speak then she was going to leave.

And look for a damn pain potion. For him.

Except when she opened the door there was a Healer on the other side, walking in, his bald head down as he examined a clipboard that had a swirl of information going by too quickly for Pansy to keep up with. He nearly ran her over and didn't notice her in the least.

"Okay, what do we have here?" Healer said without looking up. "Ah. Penile Fracture. Hope the activities were worth it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nev snapped. Again, _so weird_. Neville was one of the sweetest guys she knew. A polite until he was forced to lay down the law kind of guy.

The Healer looked at her, looked back at Neville. "Penile Fracture only occurs when the organ is erect, Mr. Longbottom. And the way that hooker is dressed and smells… phew."

"HEY!" she shouted. Okay? So? She had a lot of tequila. It was her _bachelorette_ party! That didn't make her a hooker.

"Hey!" Nev shouted at the same time she did, sitting up and pausing, pushing the ice on his crotch as he groaned in pain. "Neeeeahhh! That… is my wife in two days, buddy, watch your goddamn mouth. Fuck. It hurts. I'm gonna hurl."

"My apologies," the healer said, not meaning a word of it. He set three potions down on the table. "One potion a day, starting today. Then you'll be good as new. You will experience discomfort but it should fade by tomorrow."

"Oh thank god!" Pansy felt such relief. They were getting hitched then.

"Try to refrain from any sexual activity until all the potions have been taken and you'll be good as new," he held the clipboard out for Nev to sign.

"Wait! Three potions!" she shouted.

"Excellent observation."

"That's three days!"

"Yes. Three potions at one a day is three days. Math."

"We're getting married tomorrow!"

"My condolences, Mr. Longbottom," Rude Ass Healer Man said before leaving.

.

She got them home and put Neville to bed. He asked for water and another pain potion, which she got right away. She was equal parts pissed off at Nev, angry with herself for hurting him, hating that Healer Douchebag, and upset about their wedding.

Or more specifically their wedding night. Which wasn't happening.

And Nev was right, no matter how much she wanted to strangle him for his comments. She did make things worse. ALL THE TIME. And usually it worked out, but not this time. Nope. She broke her fiancé's penis. The day before their wedding. There was _nothing_ to be done about that one.

Grabbing an Always Ice Pack, she took him his requested items and also a chocolate bar from the secret stash. Which was running low. Weird. Neville had just stocked that a few days ago. She looked around, sneaking one for herself. Reaching the bedroom, she handed him the pack and watched as he unfolded the Prophet, clearly needing the distraction.

"I'm going to take a shower," she told him evenly. "Can I get you anything else?"

He was hiding behind the paper. "Third page."

She looked around. On the bed was only the few items she brought him, a bottle of water, and the piece of chocolate to hopefully lift his spirits. "I don't see it…?"

"Nope," he lowered the paper and glared at her. "You're on the third page."

"I'm _what_?" she yanked it from his hands. "How?"

Flipping it over she quickly scanned three pages in and found a corner picture of herself, dancing on a bar with a half naked man and looking positively ridiculous. _"Night of Fun or Cry for Help?_ So now they're just following me around? Is it because of the wedding?"

Stupid media hounds! They loved to get the most unattractive photos of her and paste them all over the paper. Usually in comparison to Nev's ex, the lovely, beautiful-from-all-angles Hannah Abbott. But this photo didn't need a comparison to show how truly awful she looked.

There were like 8 chins in that picture. Drunk, cross-eyed, up on a bar. In the corner she could just spot Daphne and Luna locked in a dance, back to back. And beside them, Tracey cheering her on. Holding up a shot glass in each hand.

They had to put one of those little black squares over Pansy's crotch because her dress was so short. And somehow, they got the exact angle that all they could see on her sash was "PENIS" in bright pink glitter.

"No," Nev informed her in a tired voice. "You called them."

"I called them? Haha no, I can't even work a telephone. The buttons confuse me… … ... _Oh GOD I CALLED THEM_!" she slapped her forehead, suddenly remembering Luna holding up her little cell phone and tempting her to the dark side with that not-so-innocent smirk.

She marched around to her side of the bed and flopped down onto the bed. "You're right. I make everything worse."

Groaning as he leaned over, he pulled the paper from her clenched hands and threw it on the floor. "You do. You make everything worse."

It might have been the sudden sobriety, or her exhaustion, but she felt the first whiff of cold feet. And it wasn't coming from her. Looking up, she met his hard gaze and prepared to yell at him. For being a huge dud and saying such a horrible thing about herself... that she literally just said… about herself. Whatever.

"And better at the same time," he added, not looking away. And making her feel 1000 times better. "It doesn't matter what they put in the paper or what they say, nothing is stopping us from getting married. And I say that despite the fact I am in the worst pain I have ever experienced in my life. Seriously."

She growled, both in anger and for guilt. She HATED that she hurt him. Hated it.

"Like," he continued. "They tortured me in 7th year and that was less painful than this."

"Why do you have to bring up 7th year?" she moaned. "I feel bad enough already."

"Because you _broke my penis_!"

"Don't be a baby," she rolled on her side and curled up, pulling the pillow underneath her head. Her hair was starting to get a lot less bouncy. "Rub my back."

"Not happening," was his icy response.

"Reasonable…"

"I need you to leave."

… which was UN _reasonable_. "And why exactly are you kicking me out of bed?"

"Because you just gave me your backside and I can't roll over to look away."

"Your arousal is not _my_ fault. You sound like one of those whiny boys at school, 'I didn't do my essay Professor because Pansy didn't tie her tie all the way and I caught an inch of skin!'"

"I'm not like that!" he argued. "I'm not aroused because you're barely covered, I'm aroused because I fucking love you but it's literally the most pain I've ever been in!"

Oh. Fine. Her love was _killing_ him. Whatever.

"I'll go to the townhouse and just F.Y.I., if you stand me up at the altar tomorrow, I'm going to set everything on fire. E.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g."

"Ditto you psychopath," he glared at her. "And I will go out to the greenhouse and squish your Emoritas."

Pansy gasped, jaw dropping, chest clutching _gasp_. "You wouldn't dare, Longbottom…"

He mimed crushing one of her precious mushrooms between his palms. "Not bluffing, Parkinson."

"That's not my name after tomorrow, because we're getting married and there's NOTHING you can do to stop it!" she kicked at the bed, rustling him just enough to groan in pain. She pointed right at him with a firm finger. "Touch my Emoritas and your 'Penile' won't be the only thing getting fractured."

"Pansy! You have to leave!" he shouted at her. What? Was he _still_ aroused?!

"Why are you aroused?! We're having a fight!"

"Because you're _fucking_ hot when we fight, your cheeks get all red and flustered… and I know what happens _after_ we fight," he adjusted the ice pack, hissing in pain. "Seriously, just go, I can't take it. It hurts so bad."

"Good!" she turned, as if to walk away. And instead, turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, wiggling her ass a bit as she pulled her dress slowly upwards. The tight hem revealed the bottoms of her cheeks.

Cheeks he loved spanking.

He thought she made things worse? Fine. She was going to prove him right! She pouted. "What about this, love? Do you like this?"

Wiggle wiggle wiggle.

"Aarrrrrrgghhhh! Get out of here!" he threw a pillow at her.

It flew through the air and hit her right on the ass. "Oof! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU THREW SOMETHING AT ME. I'M TELLING DAPHNE AND TRACEY YOU ABUSE ME."

"NO!" he shouted even louder. "WAIT. PANSY NO!"

She gave him a rude hand gesture as she left the room. "You're dead meat, Longbottom! Love you!"

.

She stopped for breakfast. Fuck her wedding diet. Bingeing wouldn't hurt her at this point right? She got a bagel with jalapeño cream cheese, a cup of fruit, a coffee bigger than her head, and a cherry turnover. Just in case.

Carb overload.

Then she headed over to the townhouse. She owned the house, and rented it out to Tracey and Daphne but she used to live there and still managed to spend a lot of time there as well. She walked in with a quick knock and headed into the kitchen, eating the turnover first.

Through the window where the bar top was, she spotted Daphne and Ron Weasley sucking face on the couch. "HELLO?!" she shouted at them. It was like 7 in the morning. Why were they snogging at 7 IN THE MORNING?

Her loud scream caused Daphne to jump in surprise, her lipstick completely smeared, Ron looking up in a daze. "Wha?"

"STOP being happy, I don't like it when you're happy!" she shouted at them.

"Rude!" Daphne kept her arms wrapped around Ron's neck, nuzzling his neck and biting at it with sexy growls. "We're busy, go get it on with your own man."

"That was the plan," Pansy rolled her eyes heaven forward as she bit into the turnover. Flaky, buttery pastry, tart cherry… jam thingy? She didn't know. But it was fucking good. Oh my god. Why didn't she eat these more often!? "I got home feeling drunk and slutty, but ended up breaking his penis. We had to go to the hospital. He's mad at me."

Ron's head shot up as Daphne's mouth formed a perfect O. And not from any sexual affections either.

Ron shouted in horror, "YOU WHAT?!"

"I BROKE HIS PENIS." Pansy shouted back. Why not yell? Today sucked.

Tracey's door slammed open. She stumbled out into the living room, hair looking like she was electrified from all the hair spray, half her make-up rubbed off, one heel still on and still wearing her slinky dress from the night before. "WHAT IS WITH all the NOISE?! THE PARTY IS OVER."

"The party is over," Pansy mocked in a 'neaner-neaner' voice.

"How are you even sober? You did like 80 shots of tequila!" Tracey shrieked.

"Sober Up Potion, from St. Mungo's. Where I was for several hours after the party. Because I BROKE NEVILLE'S PENIS. It's going to take three days to get better. Okay? You see why I'm yelling? Three days. Today. Tomorrow. The day after that. _TOMORROW IS THE WEDDING_. I just got kicked out of my own house the day before my wedding because the very sight of me hurts my fiancé's COCK."

The door to Pansy's old bedroom swung open and Luna Lovegood, Neville's long time friend from school, glided out into the living room like an ethereal wisp. She wore a long sleeved white nightgown that went to the floor. Her long, pale blonde hair down to her knees, blue eyes too big for her head, and a string of lights wrapped around her neck like a lit up bird's nest.

Pansy was half convinced it was all a farce. But that chick got _wild_ last night. Not like Tracey, Daphne, and her did. Luna didn't seem to want attention of the sexual kind. She was just… wild. Fucking wild.

"Is everything okay? There seems to be a lot of yelling," she smiled and Pansy realized what was so off putting about the witch. When she smiled, only the lower half of her face moved. Luna's eyes remained giant, unblinking orbs.

Pansy stuffed half the bagel into her mouth. "Ibrokemyfiancé'spenis," she said, voice muffled from about a pint of cream cheese. "Ooo! Spicy!"

"I assume you mean Neville's penis, as your engagement to him is the one we were celebrating last night," Luna did that weird, floaty walk towards Pansy. "And by break I assume you mean… well… Not sure what to assume about that statement, as the penis doesn't really have a bone to break."

"The Healer used the phrase—"

"Penile Fracture?" Luna offered, with that odd smile, as if talking about the weather. "Yes, I'm familiar."

Daphne, Tracey, and Pansy all shared a look. They could probably throw out 50 random guesses as to what that was supposed to mean. Ron seemed a bit sore though. He rolled off Daphne and crawled into the corner, hand over his crotch protectively.

"I don't ever want to hear the words 'penile' and 'fracture' spoken so close together again. Seriously. New house rule," he said, shaking a bit.

"Um, as the one and only owner of this house, I can say Penile Fracture as many times as I want," Pansy said, taking another bite of bagel. "Penile Fracture. Penile Fracture. Penile Fracture."

Daphne hopped up and patted Willy, their taxidermy mounted pig, on his piggy head. Then she went to Ron, offering her hand. "C'mon, hot stuff, you know I would never ever break such a wonderful piece of the male anatomy."

"Just the very mention of it has all my _anatomy_ crawling up into my stomach," Ron gulped, unable to look Daphne in the eye. "I think I'm going to… get out of here, Daph, sorry."

Surging to his feet, Ron rushed out of the house before Daphne could even say a word. The door slammed leaving her staring off in confusion. "I… I…"

"Uh oh…" Pansy caught Tracey's eye. They both nodded and rushed over to Daphne. "It's okay Daphne!"

"Yeah, this happens all the time, I promise it's going to be fine."

"I… I…"

"Rejection is a normal part of life."

"It doesn't mean he doesn't want to have sex, it's just the circumstances."

"But I… I… I don't understand…"

"You didn't do anything wrong."

" _This has never happened to me before_!" Daphne's big pouty lips started trembling before she started sobbing.

"Here you go," Luna appeared— _literally_ —by their side, holding a plum and a pineapple. Two fruits which were definitely not in the house before. "These fruits have tryptophan, which is a building block for serotonin. It should help boost your mood."

She put both pieces of fruit into Daphne's outstretched hands, the light from her strange necklace making her seem like a floating head _on_ a body, not attached. On. "I'm going to get some more sleep. Things sure are fun around here though. I might stay longer than the wedding week. I forgot how much fun friends can be."

She floated across the living room and into Pansy's old bedroom.

"I actually do feel better," Daphne said. "Because she's so weird, I'm not sure how to feel, which is way better than feeling sad…"

"Good. Now tell me what to do," Pansy said to her two best friends. "Should I cancel the wedding?"

"Why?" Tracey gasped. "No. Hell no. Fuck that. Do you know how much Daphne and I have put into this wedding? All the time consuming planning, putting up with your narcissistic bridezilla self, all the gold we've spent?"

"Gold?" Pansy screeched, totally confused. "I paid for everything! The only thing you two bought was that dumb 'Same Penis Forever' sash I wore last night that got me plastered all over _The Daily Prophet_ today!"

"Do you think they were just _giving_ you tequila shots last night? No! I was forking over bags and bags of GOLD!"

"You got up on that bar all on your own, neither of us made you go up there!"

"I suppose you two also think I make everything worse just by being then?!" Pansy screamed, her voice cracking.

Tracey and Daphne looked at each other, looked at Pansy, and said, "DUH!"

"Fine, then fuck it," Pansy's lip started trembling. "Wedding's off! Neville's penis is broken, you two hate me, and I make everything worse just by being ME!"

She turned on her toe and went back for the rest of her turnover. She hopped up through the bar top, her ass swinging in the air as she reached over the sink for her coffee and pastry both.

It kind of knocked the air out of her but she was determined to see it through. Wiggling, and spilling coffee, she finally got her turnover and backed out. Huffing, she straightened her dress with a hand full of pastry, smearing cherry jam all over herself, and then sneered at her ex-bridesmaids. "I'll see you both in _hell_!"

.

Pansy went home after getting another turnover. This one apple. She also got a raspberry one for Neville. He loved raspberry flavored anything. And also… she got another cherry one too. But that was for later! She was saving it! Seriously.

Putting away the treats, she quietly went upstairs and found Neville passed out on his back—which was weird to see, he was a side sleeper—still holding the ice pack to his crotch. He'd stuck a note to the headboard above his head that said _'I'm an ass, sorry, please don't kill me in my sleep'_.

Wow. That note did it for her. She really loved that man for finding ways to constantly make her smile. But he was an idiot. She would never _kill_ him in his sleep! She would definitely do it while he was awake, so he could see what was coming. Hehehe. No, she was kidding. She would _never_.

Pansy took a scalding shower. She had a lot of bad decisions to wash off. Afterwards, she conjured extra pillows and made a barrier down the middle of the bed so when Neville woke up, he wouldn't be tempted by her sinful curves. Then she wrote her own note.

_'I'm also an ass. Sorry I hurt you, sleep well xxxxxxxxxxxxx'_

The moment her head hit the pillow, she was out. Her dreams were way, way weirder than usual. She wore her lab coat from work, two little green leaves stitched into her collar. But instead of the usual 6 cauldron station she worked at, now there were 20. All of them going at once, and all of them _burning_. Luna Lovegood descended from a heavenly cloud with an entire basket of apple turnovers and a string of lights around her naked body.

She handed over the turnovers and started laughing, "Looks like you have a major problem, Pansy. The wedding will not help."

Before Pansy could respond, the floor opened up into a billowing black cloud of smoke and ash, Tracey and Daphne rising from the fiery pits of hell. Both of them wore demon horn headbands and had yellow contacts in their eyes. They cackled maniacally as they ascended.

"Don't listen to her," Tracey laughed.

"Yeah, what does she know?" Daphne mimicked the laugh until it echoed.

"Okay… time to wake up… ha…" Pansy pinched her arm but suddenly her limbs were turnovers, and she could no longer stand up straight. She looked down and her torso was becoming a giant turnover.

Then her wedding dress appeared and her head turned into a turnover, until she was just a giant turnover made of turnovers, wearing her wedding dress and lying on the floor while her life went up into flames.

She woke up on a gasp, with Neville standing over her. "Pansy," he had a hand on her shoulder, trying to wake her up. "You're having a bad dream."

"Bad… bad dream… Neville?"

"Yes, love?"

"Please don't let me eat any turnovers, ever, ever again."

"I have good news for you then," he smirked. "I ate the apple and cherry one I found downstairs."

"HEY those were mine! I got you a raspberry one!" she sat up, pouting.

"Damn it," he swore. "There's a raspberry one? I love raspberries. Also you just told me not to let you have any."

"That's besides the point," she stuck her tongue out. "How do you feel?"

"I'm sore, but better I think. And I'm sorry I made you leave, it took me about 3 minutes before I realized that was a shitty thing to do."

"It took you 3 whole minutes?" she complained. "I'm worth nothing to you."

"Heeeeyy," he sat on the edge of the bed beside her. "That's your insecure voice. The rehearsal dinner is in 3 hours. Talk to me."

"What rehearsal dinner? The wedding is canceled," she blew out a breath. Damn that dream kinda fucked her up. She told him about the ridiculous fight she had with Tracey and Daphne. She'd been exhausted, sober, and emotionally drained. Of course she acted like a ninny. "You hate me, my friends hate me. I'm apparently a big, ugly bridezilla. We can't even have sex tomorrow. On our _wedding_ night. And that's my fault."

He put both hands on either side of her head, thumbs rubbing her cheeks, fingers massaging her neck under her ears. If she had a tail, it would be wagging. "What happened to," he cleared his throat and made his voice squeakier. "'We're getting married tomorrow no matter what happens!'?

"First off, never again," she held up a finger. "Secondly... I don't wanna."

"No?" he raised his eyebrows. "You don't wanna?"

"No."

"No?"

"NO."

"Why don't we just start with the rehearsal dinner?" He put a lot of emphasis on her favorite word: dinner.

But it wasn't enough. She shook her head, knowing full well she was acting and sounded like a whiny baby. "Nope."

"Are you sure? Remember what we ordered?" he nodded, trying to coax her. "All you can eat pasta bar…"

She swallowed. "Ooohh… lasagna…"

"And garlic bread," he reminded her in a sing-song voice.

"Garlic bread," she repeated, feeling enticed. "I want it."

"You want it?"

Nodding, she let him pull her up. "I want it bad."

"I'm going to make you a coffee while you shower," he danced her to the bathroom. "Then we can go eat a million carbs, which will definitely put a smile on your face."

The thought of unlimited pasta absolutely made her smile, but even better, Neville seemed to be feeling way, way better after a little sleep. She danced with him all the way to the shower and kissed his cheek at the door. Under different circumstances, she would have attacked his mouth because kissing Neville was her third favorite thing.

First was, obviously, sex. With Neville. It was awesome. Their chemistry together was hella good. Brain melting, bed breaking, getting kicked out of restaurants good.

Second was Neville's cooking. He cooked with all her most favorite items. Butter. Cheese. Garlic. And cheese. You know, the four major food groups. Or maybe that was just garlic bread.

And he always managed to surprise her with a new recipe too. As she got off an hour later than he usually did, he took it upon himself to make them dinner most nights.

Also because he didn't want to get poisoned eating something she made. But that's besides the point.

Wait. What was her point again?

Right.

Garlic bread.

Wait no!

Kissing Neville. Her third favorite thing in the world. Usually, she would take the chance to straight murder that mouth of his, but since his goodies were under the weather for another two days, she pressed a short, sweet kiss into his cheek. "Carbs sound _perfect_. Plus, I'll need the extra energy to be mean to Daphne and Tracey."

Neville winced, sucking in a breath. "So… did you… tell them that I hit you with a pillow… by any chance?"

"Heeheehee," she patted his head. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Oh God," he pressed his hand into his forehead, eyes bulging from his head. "I'm going to die tonight."

"Perhaps. Hey will you… warm me up that last turnover?"

He poked her in the side. "Maybe."

She took her time in the shower and getting ready afterwards. The dress she picked for this night a far cry from the one she wore the night before. Modest, for one, though she picked a deep rose red color that Nev loved. It was only in her favor she wore so much red.

He couldn't keep his hands off her when she did.

The hair dryer came out for the second time since she moved in, blowing out her hair and making it bouncy. Ooo-la-la! She threw on some mascara and some shiny lip gloss that wouldn't be disturbed by all the eating she planned to do that night.

In the time it had taken her to get ready, Neville had put on a dark brown-on-white suit that matched the chocolaty color of his hair, and bonus! A matching tie. There was something extremely satisfying about seeing him in a well fitted suit. Pansy tilted her head to the side, caught up in the sight of his shoulders.

Suddenly, she had a new fascination. Seriously, why was he in such good shape? He grew mushrooms in a basement. He ate the same things she did. It was terribly unfair! Even so much as a look at a box of donuts had her gaining weight. Neville could eat the whole thing and need to tighten his belt loop.

SO rude!

"You better stop looking at me that way," he told her, taking a small plate from the microwave and handing it over to her with a thermos of coffee.

"Nope," she said, making a popping sound with her mouth as she did. Then she stuffed half the turnover into her mouth. "Mmm-rashpberry! AahhOchaSHhhasfas—HOT!"

"Blow on it, oh my god! Lemme have a bite," he said, stealing the fork from her.

"Stop telling me to blow you," she stole the fork back.

He plucked it from her hands and gave her a very male look. One that had her leaning in closer. Just enough to push the very tips of her breasts against his chest. While distracted, she stole the fork back for a final time and lifted a bite to his mouth. She watched his face melt in pleasure. Sexy dark eyes, a sharp, smooth bearded jaw. His smile turning up on the left as he looked at her, all loving and happy… Then he winced again.

"Bad idea. Terrible idea. Um… de-arouse me. Say gross things. Hurry!"

"Uh?" she couldn't think of a single thing! She was used to doing the opposite, turning him ON not off. A little shake of the ass, flash a boob, make an inappropriate mushroom joke? Easy! What was the opposite of sexy?

Mouth hanging open, she blurted out the first things she could think of. "Taxes! Soggy bread! Dewey in lady's underwear!"

There was a long moment where they looked at each other in horror, then they both started screaming. The image of her ex-boss, Nev's current boss, who was a squat, balding, overweight grudge-holding piece of brown-nosing garbage….. in a thong…. Made her want to vomit.

Nev, absolutely pained, put a hand over his heart. "Can't say I didn't get what I asked for…"

"I'm a dutiful wife," Pansy gagged. "C'mon. Let's go eat!"

"I need to grab the ice pack."

.

The rehearsal dinner started off fairly normal. Neville rented out their favorite botanical garden for the weekend, the one with the very rare Blue Camellias. She let him have the final say when it came to the venue. Not to say she wasn't a picky bride. It had taken two whole months to decide on bridesmaids dresses that Pansy liked that Daphne and Tracey could tolerate.

But she knew Neville would do it right. The trees were draped in soft lights that mimicked the ones in their bedroom. Flowers, not picked nor arranged, but grown in nearly every color they could think of spread out all throughout the massive garden. Giant grasses and leafy trees enclosed the garden, making it private. And romantic.

They'd cleared space in the center for the chairs, which were draped with silken ribbons and bouquets of mushrooms and flowers both.

It would be an intimate wedding. Their guest list topped off at 41 exactly. Neither of them had any family to invite, but that was okay. They were going to be each other's family.

The neat rows of white wooden chairs faced an altar Neville was currently adorning with massive flowers he picked from his own garden at home, securing them personally. Roses and Dahlias and Camellias galore.

Technically she didn't have any colors. Daphne and Tracey couldn't decide on one color to wear. Especially since they all had varying skin tones. So Pansy cut the argument short and agreed they could each wear a black cocktail dress, so long as it was the same length and same material.

Someone had rolled out a cream colored carpet down the aisle and lined it with Serpaine King mushrooms. Thin with wide caps, they glowed a faint blue glow once the sun set. Which would be the moment she walked down the aisle.

If she were getting married.

"I don't know why you're bothering, I told you the wedding is off," Pansy crossed her arms, forcing a pout. "I'm only here for the garlic bread."

Neville, levitating lights and flowers up to the tip-top of the altar, didn't pay her any mind. Lacy curtains draped down the back, pooling at the floor and making it seem like they were on a cloud.

"I know what you said," he winked at the officiant, a sweet witch who had been more than happy to listen to their requests when it came to the vows and ceremony.

Viola stifled a laugh with her petite fingers, her notebook in the other hand, and a sweet headband keeping a mass of black curls out of her face. She'd been getting to know them as a couple for the last few weeks, getting a speech together for the ceremony.

"You know I entered this marriage in the hopes of fixing our relationship problems, like when you don't listen," Pansy pretended to groan with frustration. "That's a healthy reason to get married right?"

Viola kept laughing, eyes watering behind her big, square glasses. "Pansy, you're a nut."

"You have no idea, Vi," Neville muttered, stepping back to admire his work. "I thought you were marrying me for the sex?"

"All men think that," Pansy flipped her hair. She couldn't help it. Why didn't she blow it out regularly? It looked amazing. Voluminous layers, bouncing around her head. "I can't wait to murder you in your sleep and collect your life insurance."

Vi laughed again and then went off to speak to the director of the company that rented out the gardens for events just like theirs, with promises to return so they could get to the actual rehearsal.

"If only I had a knut for every time you said that. How's that look, honey?"

Oh he meant her?

"'Honey'? Is that me?" Pansy stomped her foot. "I hate your sexist terms of endearment! I'm a modern witch! I deserve respect."

"Oh, sorry, I meant 'How does that look, psycho-bitch?'"

"That's better," Pansy flipped her bouncy hair. "And it's perfect. If I were getting married, here, tomorrow, in the evening, I would be very happy with it."

"Thought so," Neville stepped into the space next to her and kissed her cheek. He lingered a moment, smelling of man and flowers all at once. Then he started muttering under his breath. _"Dewey… Dewey_ …"

Pansy shoved him away. "No kissing! No touching! Your penis is broken, don't you remember?"

"Oh, I'm sure he remembers very well," Tracey said, appearing beside her. "Whore."

"Slut." Pansy smiled pleasantly. "I'm only here for the garlic bread. Wedding is still off."

"We have bigger problems than your drama, skank," Tracey responded, smoothing down her dress. A silky blue thing that looked good against her dark skin. Around her waist was a matching sash belt that made her waist seem extra tiny. "Ron came back after you left the townhouse earlier… and _broke up_ with Daphne. She's a wreck."

Neville and Pansy both gasped in surprise.

"What?" - "Why?"

"Something about Daphne being 'too much'. Like we don't get that enough already." Tracey rolled her eyes. "Dude's scared. _You_ scared him."

"And just like that, Ron Weasley makes history by being the first man to ever break up with Daphne Greengrass," Pansy put a hand over her mouth. "This is bad."

"This is super bad. And _YOUR FAULT_. You are the one who hooked them up. I told you not to! I told you it was a bad idea! Now she's in love with the moron and he's run off because you can't stop saying 'penile fracture' at him."

"I can't be blamed because he's wigging out," Pansy glared at Tracey. Guess they were going to fight again. Why not? It wasn't as if weddings were stressful enough. "What else did you think would happen when two sex fiends got together? It's been what? 4 months? Honeymoon is over, and neither of them have ever been in a serious relationship. That's not MY fault!"

"You got them together. It was your idea," Tracey yelled at her.

"Actually it was Neville's idea!" Pansy shouted right back.

"Yeah go ahead, blame the man," Neville said dryly. "But for real, Tracey, don't be mad at Pansy. Daphne and Ron are both adults, no one is responsible for them but themselves."

"Shut up, Nev," Tracey held a hand up in his direction. "You haven't been home all day dealing with the aftermath. I hate when Daphne cries. She's like a broken puppy."

"You could've come and gotten me," Pansy crossed her arms. "I was just sleeping off all the bad decisions I made last night."

"It's extra bad because both of them are going to be here tonight—ahem—hey Daph, how's it going?" Neville said, his voice rising up slightly.

"Hi, Nevvy Nev," Daphne cooed, wrapping her arms around Neville's neck. "You gorgeous man. I told you so many times before, you should have come and played with me instead of that crazy Pansy Parkinson. She hurt you in your manly place and I would never, ever, ever, do such a terrible thing to you."

Pansy loved that suddenly Neville didn't seem to be in pain any longer. The pain caused by his erection. Pain that went away when his erection went away. Daphne was _gorgeous_ , and rubbing her skanky self all over him. But he wasn't in pain. Good man. Perfect man. She loved loved LOVED that man!

"I know Daph," Neville shrugged, picking Daphne up around the waist and twirling her around playfully. "Missed my chance. Damn Parkinson got her beasty claws in me."

"It's _never_ too late!" Daphne laughed, except Pansy could spot the soreness behind her baby blues. The hint of red that said she had been crying sometime within the last few hours. "We can run away together."

"Uhm," Pansy raised her fingers, making them into a claw. "Daphne, I know your thotty hands aren't all over my fiancé?"

"I thought the wedding was off?" Tracey pointed out.

"Yeah, because you two are evil and must be destroyed. Never said anything about the engagement. Unless Nev wants to call it off ..." Pansy gave him her best psycho eyes while mouthing 'THERE IS NO ESCAPE'.

"Now's our chance, quick Daph!" Neville laughed, allowing Daphne to hop on his back, giving her a piggyback ride and taking off for the other side of the garden. It made Daphne squeal with laughter.

And distract her from the fact that Ron just walked in with Harry, Ginny, and Luna.

Pansy and Tracey turned in that direction at the same time. They might be in the middle of a fight, but at the end of the day, it was the three of them versus the world. "What's the play?"

"Ginny will laugh, unsure about Luna. Harry will only watch." Pansy informed Tracey. "Unless it gets too violent."

"So semi-violence is okay?"

"It'll do for now," Pansy smirked when Ron looked her way.

She and Tracey marched forward together, Tracey removing the soft belt from around her waist and whipping it out with a dramatic flourish. Pansy pulled her wand and summoned a can of whipped cream.

Ron's eyes went wide with fear and Harry paused mid sentence, seeing the danger and immediately diving out of the way, pulling Ginny with him and leaving Ron all by himself.

He backed up a few paces but there was nowhere to hide.

"You done fucked up, Ronnie," Pansy called drawing his attention as Tracey circled around. "You made Daphne cry."

"Daphne is like our sister."

"Our dear, beloved sister."

"Our sister we would do anything for."

"Whoa!" Ron held up his hands. "Calm down, Ketchup. Tracey! It's a mutual thing!"

"So you've been crying today, Ron? Be honest…"

"Uh…"

Pansy and Tracey attacked at the same time, knocking away Ron's wand and wrestling him to the ground. Trace got his arms behind his back and immediately bound him with the sash as he shouted for help that never came. They pushed him on his stomach, Pansy straddling him from behind as she pulled his head back by his thick, red hair, spraying whipped cream into his face.

"AAaahhh!" he coughed as whip cream squirted all over his freckled face. Getting his eyes, nose, and mouth.

"You brought this on yourself," Pansy shouted over him. "You ever make Daphne cry again, and we'll be repeating this little circus act, Weasley!"

As they attacked, Neville circled around with Daphne still on his back. She watched in fascination, her head tilting to the right as Neville's head tilted to the left.

He said, "This is way funnier when it's not happening to me…"

"Ketchup, I'm sorry!" Ron cried when Pansy used her hand to smear the whipped cream all over his face. She got a globful and gave him a wet-willy with it.

"She's not the one you should be apologizing to, moron!" Tracey yelled, whipping out her wand. With a wave and an impassioned shout, Ron's trousers immediately began shrinking. Tightening painfully over his crotch.

"AHHHH! I'M SORRY! DAPHNE I'M SORRY! Make them STOP!"

"Aww, let me down, Nevvy," Daphne requested.

"As you wish, my lady," Neville knelt down, helping Daphne off his back and holding her hand as she walked around to stand before Ron.

"Ladies, please let Ron go. He's telling the truth… our break up is mutual…" she sniffed but leaned down and fingered a bit of whipped cream from Ron's face, placing the finger in her mouth and making a show of sucking it sensually in front of him. "Too bad for him. He's going to miss me terribly."

"Uh, excuse me? I hate to interrupt… whatever… is happening here… but it's time to begin the rehearsal!"

Everyone turned to see Viola, standing there with her notebook and a sweet smile.

.

"See you tomorrow?" Nev asked a little tentatively, both hands on her cheeks. They were both obnoxiously full of pasta and bread.

"Yes," she conceded. "I'll be there, covered in goat's blood, wearing a black veil, sacrificing small children to Satan most likely."

"Promise?" he stuck his lip out, imitating her.

Standing up straight, Pansy took both his hands in hers and put on a serious face. "I will be there. If I don't show up, something dire happened and I need you to come rescue me from whatever trouble I got into, you hear me?"

"Don't get in trouble," he tugged on her hands, chiding her. "I realize I'm asking for the impossible, but just go home. Go to sleep. Come marry me tomorrow."

"Aren't you disappointed we can't, you know, get naughty together on our wedding night?"

He shrugged, smile crooked. "I hear most people don't even have sex on their wedding night, they're too tired. You and I… We'll go pig out instead. Eat so much we don't even want to have sex. We'll spend the entirety of our honeymoon making up for it. I promise."

Pansy grinned ear to ear. "Deal. I'll be there. Tomorrow. Sunset."

"Good. And if I'm not there, something dire happened and it's probably your fault," he smirked.

"JERK. I'm calling it off! You can't take anything seriously," she shouted, pressing kisses to both his cheeks. "I have a full day of pampering planned tomorrow. Get some sleep, Mr. Longbottom."

" _Mrs. Longbottom_ ," he returned the cheek kisses before walking away and meeting up with Harry and Ron—who still had dried whipped cream stuck in his hair and beard. She heard Neville muttering 'Dewey' over and over again as he walked away.

Daphne and Trace came up beside her, Tracey wrapping her arm around Pansy's shoulders as Daphne took her hand.

"Bye Ron," Tracey called in a sinister voice.

The man didn't turn around but the three of them spotted his neck turning bright red as he rushed away.

"Heh heh heh," Pansy pulled her friends in. "Okay. Who wants to go get a drink?"

"NO!" the two of them cried out at the same time.

"We have a plan. We both promised Neville we would not let you out of the house tonight."

"I'm joking," Pansy rolled her eyes. "I'm going home before I ruin anyone else's life."

"We're coming with you," Daphne said, tugging Pansy's arm forward. "Girl's night. Mani/pedi, face masks, eyebrows, and waxing."

"What's the point?" Pansy groaned as Tracey took her other arm and they both dragged her from the garden. "Nev and I won't be having sex tomorrow. Or the day after. I BROKE HIS PENIS."

"I swear on all that is holy and good, if you don't stop talking about Neville Longbottom's penis I'm going to lose it!" Tracey screamed.

Right in front of the caterers who were trying to pack up for the evening.

"PPEEEEEENNNISSSSS!" Pansy shouted. "REEEEE!"

"Ignore her," Daphne told the caterers, pulling Pansy along gently. "She's had a bit too much elderflower cordial, all is fine here."

"Last time. Sorry," Pansy patted Tracey's head gently. "For being a bridezilla too."

She was rewarded with a hearty eye roll for that apology. "You're not a bridezilla, Pans. Seriously. But you can't expect me to be friendly at 7 in the morning after clubbing with your drunk ass all night, can you? _I_ never got a sober up potion this morning."

"Remember Millie's wedding?" Daphne asked in horror, changing the subject. "Those bridesmaid dresses…"

"Pink flamingo monstrosities? In the middle of July? I was sweating for 5 hours straight." Tracey groaned. "Who gets married in July?"

"Twenty layers of lace. _Twenty_." Pansy held Tracey's hand as they walked, her other arm around Daphne's waist. "The flamingo head was the _worst_!"

"Oh, how did I forget about the flamingo head?"

They all burst into laughter, recalling the bride's dress. Which would have been perfectly beautiful and perfectly normal for a wedding… except for the giant flamingo head that attached at the shoulders and towered over Millie's head. The beak hadn't been sculpted well, being far too pointed.

The poor groom had been quaking with fear the entire ceremony.

The three of them laughed all the way back home. Neville was spending the night at Harry and Ginny's but he apparently planned a little surprise for her. When she opened the fridge to get one of the small bottles of champagne people had been sending her all week, she found three immaculately decorated cupcakes wrapped in three different colored ribbons.

And a note that said, _Have a fun girls night, love you. xxxx_

"Huh, would you look at that…" Pansy literally sighed with happiness. Years she spent building up a reservoir of resentment and cynicism, only for Neville to come along and melt her into a puddle.

Of looooooooove.

A silky red ribbon was wrapped around a tiramisu cake. That was hers _for sure_. Tiramisu was Pansy's absolute favorite thing. She had, without shame, gotten slutty with Neville for even a small bite many times in the past.

A bright yellow ribbon wrapped around a frosted cake that had candied lemon pieces on top. That one was Tracey's. She loved tart flavors because she was quite tart herself.

And a dark blue was wrapped around a chocolate cake that had a dash of cream and a cherry on top. Daphne's. Sweet and rich.

"It is such a shame he's marrying you," Tracey said behind her, sharing in Pansy's sigh. "Because I would marry him in an instant."

"Awww same," Daphne wedged herself between them. "I mean that Pansy. If you two ever get a divorce I'm not waiting to make a move. Especially since… oh… you know…"

"Time to spill, Daph. What happened?" Pansy handed out cakes and grabbed a small champagne bottle with three flutes.

Then they went upstairs and twenty minutes later, Pansy was lounging on her bed, sipping champagne, getting her toes done, hair wrapped up in a satin towel, while Daphne worked on her eyebrows.

"I'm just not a relationship kind of girl," Daphne insisted. "He isn't either. That's all…"

Neither Tracey nor Pansy believed her, but they listened to Daphne sink deeper and deeper into denial.

"The sex was great but fresh sex is the best way to go. We can't do relationships. We're both busy with work, no time for nonsense. And after so long of the same it only gets boring. No offense Pansy. I'm sure Neville is adequate. But same sex is boring sex. That's only a fact."

"Neville and I don't have boring sex," Pansy glared.

"Shhh stop, don't move," Daphne threatened with a silver pair of tweezers. "And maybe not yet, but it will eventually turn dull and repetitive!"

She sounded as if she were trying to convince herself.

"Not exactly something you say to a bride on the eve of her wedding," Tracey said, using her wand to complete the top coat of the toe nail polish. "Of course, Pansy's just crazy enough to keep it interesting."

Shrugging, Pansy sipped from her flute and longingly looked at the tray of cakes at the edge of the bed. "I don't kiss and tell, ladies."

"That's a huge lie."

"You basically shout from the rooftops whenever you get off."

"Which is all the time."

"Also stop having sex at the townhouse."

"Yeah you _don't live there anymore_!"

"If sex gets boring after marriage then you two don't have much to worry about, do you?" It worked both as an insult and as a firm _shut-the-hell-up_.

"Oh, that's exactly what I _don't_ have to worry about," Daphne insisted with a nod. Replacing her hurt with a hefty amount of optimistic denial. She switched to Pansy's other eyebrow and continued to pluck away. "Yeah. Don't have to worry about boring sex or broken hearts if you're just having fun and dating around…"

"My god," Tracey rolled her eyes. "You sound pathetic right now."

"Don't act as if I'm alone here, Trace, you said you agree with me! Men get _boring_ after a while. You gotta change it up. You can't… fall in love..."

Daphne's big, bright blue eyes watered as her voice wavered.

"Men are boring right from the start," Tracey said, attempting to distract her before she really started crying.

Pansy meant to join in… but instead she said, "Sex is different when you're in love, Daph…"

Oops. Wrong thing. Like usual, she went and said the wrong damn thing. Daphne burst into tears, sobbing into her hands, tweezers forgotten. "I know! Sex with Ron is way, way better. I think about him all the time and neither of us are emotionally mature enough to admit it and we're both going to die all alone!"

Pansy and Tracey both felt like they drank straight lemon juice. Cringing deeply while they listened to Daphne's sobs. It wasn't fun listening to their best friend have a complete mental breakdown.

"Um… I meant… men are… dumb. Yeah, useless, terrible men. And love is a sham," Pansy nodded quickly. "I'm marrying Nev for his big life insurance policy. And his cock is this big!"

She held her hands out at an obnoxious width. Enough to make Daphne laugh at the ridiculous implication.

"Yeah right."

"Whatever!"

"And it's this thick!" Pansy made a circle with both hands, then mimed taking a big bite. "Yep. That's the only reason we're getting married. He's … definitely… boring."

In fact, she used to think exactly that about Neville when they worked together. She thought he was quite boring. A dud. When really, he was just reserved. Once she took the time to get to know him, it was a whole different story. Maybe she should share that with her friends.

"Not Neville," Tracey said a minute later, without any of her usual tartness. "I don't mean Neville, he's really great, Pans. We love him."

"You know what?" Pansy sat up, setting her bubbly drink aside. She pushed Daphne away and said, "Daphne's got issues, but you're the one I'm worried about Trace. You've been really snarly lately."

"Ooooo. Oo. Oo." Daphne pointed at Tracey with her reclaimed tweezers. "She's so right. You've been in a rotten mood for like two straight weeks now."

Shaking her head, Tracey finished with the toes. "There. Perfect."

Pansy leaned in. A deep, deep red. The polish was called _Devil's Ruby_. Nev's favorite color. He loved her in all shades. Good thing she looked so good in it. "It's not hideous. Now. Spill."

Groaning, Tracey crawled onto the bed and sprawled out between Pansy and Daphne, pulling at her curls. "Because I'm tired. Tired of my life. Tired of loud as hell roommates, even ones that have moved out!"

She glared at Pansy.

Who glared back. And why did that sound so familiar? Oh yeah, because Pansy said something very similar to Neville once. Right before she threatened his favorite microscope and flashed him her goodies.

Oh well. That had worked out pretty well actually. See? Being a raging lunatic totally worked out.

"I'm just… tired of my job. And men at my job-" Tracey's eyes crossed as she stuck her tongue out. "Arrogant, selfish, use-you-and-abuse-you, take-your-promotion-at-work and then ask you out afterwards saying 'No hard feelings, eh, Trace?' like it's NO BIG DEAL. TIRED."

She shrieked. "I'm so tired of men, arrrrgghhhh! There." Deep breath. "There's my rant. All done now. Let's talk about the bride. Pansy and Neville. Wooo…"

Saddest. Woo. In. The. World.

Pansy placed her hands on Tracey's cheeks, squeezing the girl's face. "You want Nev? I'll give ya one night with him. All you need is a couple of Polyjuice pots and a bottle of chocolate sauce."

"Hey!" Daphne pouted. "What about me?"

"I didn't offer because I know you'll say yes," Pansy wiggled her nose at Daphne.

"Not that he would agree anyway. Neville's the exception," Tracey admired, happy when Pansy began massaging her neck. "Why can't a man be intimate without demanding sex? A little neck rub isn't that much, is it?"

"She has a point," Daphne sighed, laying down next to Tracey. "Nev is the exception. He does affectionate things like that all the time and it doesn't feel sexual. It doesn't feel like he's coming on to us. He simply treats us like… we're important and mean something to him. What a concept!"

Pansy knew exactly what they spoke of. Neville treated the people in his life with immense care and appreciation. All the time. He was an incredibly thoughtful man, and Pansy knew a bit of that stemmed from losing his Gran after not speaking to the woman for several years after a rather bad fight.

It was a hard lesson for him and he never took those he loved for granted.

It was hard not to fall in love with him when he was constantly looking at her like she was the most precious thing to him.

"Poor Neville," she said, lying down between Tracey and Daphne, feeling pampered and groomed and loved. "He's getting three wives tomorrow. We're all crazy, high maintenance, and addicted to sex."

"Oh yeah. Poor Neville," Daphne rolled her eyes. Then they all burst into giggles. And ate cake.

.

Pansy woke up, hearing a click followed by the shutter sound of a photograph being taken and lifted her head dizzily. A withered slice of cucumber fell from her left eye. She was being spooned by Daphne while Tracey snored at the foot of the bed.

Satin towel still wrapped around her hair, drool down her face, and the mask. Right before falling asleep, the three of them applied a bright green overnight mask that was supposed to… what?

She didn't know. Suck the demons from her pores? De-age her a few years? Something like that? Hydrate and rejuvenate?

All she knew was that she felt covered by a cracked and dry cardboard that was stuck to her face.

And Ron Weasley had just gotten a picture of them all.

"Heh heh heh, take that you crazy witches!" he shouted when Pansy gasped.

"Get him!" she shouted. "Wake up! Get him quick!"

Ron took off, laughing maniacally as he ran down the hallway towards the stairs.

"I'm going to murder you Ronnie!" Daphne shouted as she and Pansy jumped out of bed and rushed after him.

"You have to catch me first, Cheeks!" he laughed, barreling through the front door and disappearing outside. A second later and they heard the crack of Apparation.

"OOOOOOOOHhhhh!" Daphne stomped her feet at the top of the stairs. "I'm going to _kill him_!"

"Uhm…" Pansy leaned over the railing, watching the front door swing in the mid morning sunlight. Loser just left her front door wide open. "'Cheeks'?"

"Trust me, it's not what you think it is," Daphne wiggled her eyebrows but then frowned. "Why is he still playing with me?"

"Because he's stupidly in love, emphasis on the stupid," Tracey yawned as she walked by, shrugging into her bathrobe. "I'm making coffee."

Ohh, coffee. Pansy followed without thought, lifting her arms up and summoning her best zombie voice. "Cooffeeeeee… coffeeeeeeee. Also, stop making today about you," she sneered at Daphne. "I'm the bride! Me me me me me."

"God, you're going to milk that all day aren't you?" Daphne face palmed.

All. Day. Pansy did just that. It seemed it went by in the blink of an eye. One moment she was sucking down on an iced coffee with whipped cream and caramel drizzled down the sides and the next Daphne was forcing her into sheer stockings while Tracey pulled the hair dryer out for the third day in a row.

They were already in their dresses. Tight(obviously) black cocktail dresses that hit mid thigh. Daphne's was strapless and Tracey's was lacy and off the shoulder—and they both looked amazing.

Next came make up, earrings, high heels and then they were shoving her into the wedding dress and putting a silver sickle in her shoe. She stood in front of the mirror and smiled, feeling damn good. Her dress was long sleeved, creamy white, and tight fitting. Modest neckline but the form showed off all sorts of curves.

"Speaking of curves…" She turned around to examine her backside. "Perfection."

"So modest," Tracey rolled her eyes.

"And humble," Daphne added.

"And about to give you two a present for being great bridesmaids but if you can't shut it—"

"We'll be good!" they said together. Tracey mimed zipping her mouth while Daphne pretended to lock it up and throw away the key.

Grinning madly, Pansy went over to the massive dresser she shared with Nev and dug around in her sock drawer. You know, the perfect place to keep all her valuables. From the very back she pulled out two wide velvet boxes. It was Nev's idea really—Pansy had been blanking on what would be good enough to get them. How do you convey how much you appreciated two people who would do anything for you?

When she turned around they were both right there, bouncing on their feet eagerly.

Pansy held the boxes out. Every girl needed a classy bracelet and matching earrings right? "This is from Nev and myself. Because we-" she pretended to gag. "Love you both. For real. . . . hags."

.

Another blink and Viola was escorting her, Daphne, and Tracey to the entrance of the garden. Through the curtains that had been put up to separate the main garden and give a sense of privacy, she could hear the jovial murmur of the guests. Overhead, purple and pink clouds streaked across the sky as the sun began to set.

"All your guests have been checked and double checked by the bridesmaids-" Viola stopped to look at Tracey.

Who nodded. "Abbott is _not_ here."

Pansy was sneaking a peek through the curtains. "Good!" She spotted Nev by the altar, his back to her. OOoooohhh…. She swooned. About those shoulders, DAMN they looked good in a suit! Luna was dressed in a spiky blue dress that made her look like a deadly pygmy puff… if that were even possible, and she was fixing Nev's boutonniere while Ginny fixed Harry's. Ron stood there, cool and confident.

Looking perfectly happy for someone who just broke off a 4 month long relationship.

"Great. Then… it's time, Pansy," Viola said sweetly. "Everything else is ready. I'll take my place at the altar and signal the music to begin. Do it just as we practiced last night."

"Thanks Vi," she said, unable to stop peeking. Granger sat in the front with some school buddies and her husband Theodore. Her old boss Lloyd was in the third row with his family, looking swell and happy. Most of the crowd consisted of Neville's friends from school and work. In the second row she could see the back of Mr. Rees head. The big, big boss. The one who wrote all the checks. And there was a sea of Weasley red hair.

All surrounded by a beautiful garden touched by the last remaining rays of sunshine for the day.

"For the final time, I must protest against these atrocious bouquets…"

"Yeah, Pans, there's plenty of actual flowers around here, are you positive you want to use… these?"

"The bouquets stay," she insisted, watching Viola reach the altar and say something that made Neville laugh. She loved when he laughed. Loved making him laugh. Seeing his lips turn up to the left and hearing that deep laugh that always caught in his chest at first, before bursting out and becoming infectious. Something he never used to do… something she planned on making sure he did all the time.

Pulling away from the curtain, she lifted her wand and sent the bouquets she made herself flying into Tracey and Daphne's hands. Bouquets of neon Bluets, Black Jelly Fungus, purple basil and enoki, and bright white Chanterelles and her blessed red capped Emoritas.

The Black Jelly Fungus and the purple basil made it smell sweet, she didn't know what their problem was holding the mushroom bouquets. As if she would have anything else!

"Ugh, let's get this over with so I don't have to spend any more time than necessary holding this awful thing," Daphne said, looking disgusted.

"Seriously," Tracey glared. "I'm only doing this once, so you better not divorce Nev."

"Fungus is the cornerstone of life, ladies. And... You'd have to pry him from my dead cold hands," Pansy told them with a smirk, peeking through the curtains again. She wanted to see her own wedding! It was amazing to see everyone excited and ready to see her.

They were there to see HER get married!

In the corner a single, suit clad mandolin player began plucking away at his instrument. The Ballad of the Three Finned Horse, her favorite fairy tale song. He hit the first high note and Tracey kissed her cheek sweetly. Then she straightened up, her jeweled bracelet catching the light as she held onto the small bouquet of mushrooms, before she stepped through the curtain.

Pansy watched the crowd turn expectantly, smiling as Tracey gracefully walked down the aisle. All legs and fabulous curls, head held high. Neville straightened up, Luna by his side. Ginny by her.

"Is it everything you imagined?" Daphne asked in a small voice.

"I'm a little worried nothing has gone wrong today…" Pansy admitted quietly. "But look…"

Daphne went to the opposite side of the curtain and looked out. Together they watched Neville reach forward to take Tracey's hand in a sweet moment. But Pansy knew he wasn't finished and was proved right when Neville tugged Tracey forward, twirling her around before pulling her in for a big bear hug.

Daphne and Pansy heard Tracey's laugh from all the way by the curtain.

"I fucking _love_ that man," Pansy whispered to Daphne, feeling all sorts of warm and tingly. It wasn't just romantic love, of which she had in spades. But the thought of spending the rest of her life with a man who gave a fuck about her. About her and Daphne and Tracey.

They were far more than her friends. They were sisters, no blood required.

The mandolin hit another high note and Daphne jumped. "My turn! See you down there." A peck on the cheek. And then she glided through the curtains.

Pansy watched her preen and prance down the aisle, waving like the princess she was and entertaining the crowd. Daphne was already holding her hand out when she reached Neville. With a slight bow, he kissed her knuckles like the gentleman he was before yanking her into a hug and twirling her around wildly.

Her long blonde hair swung around as Daphne shrieked with joy, gasping when Neville set her down gently. She straightened her headband, gave Ron a _eat-dirt_ look, and then loudly announced, "Well, since now is my last chance…"

She wasn't…

She wouldn't…

She DID.

Daphne wrapped her arms around Neville's neck and laid one on him. Kissing him full on the mouth right in front of everyone… including Ron. Who curled his fists in anger. Hermione and Harry on either side of him had to grab him before he jumped up to intervene.

Well he wasn't looking so cool and confident now, was he?

Backing away with a smile, Daphne took her place to the left of the altar, giving a fuming Ron a flirty wink while Neville stood frozen in shock, red gloss smeared across his lips. As if he didn't see that coming.

Pansy backed away from the curtain and pulled out her own surprise hidden in her bouquet. She used her wand to return it to it's normal size.

She and Nev had an unspoken agreement. She would spend the rest of her life making him laugh so long as he put up with her and continued to feed her delicious treats. She could sacrifice a bit of that bouncy hair. It felt heavier than it looked, the headband. Since she refused to wear a veil, it didn't overcrowd her head. But it was big enough to make a statement.

Her musical cue came and went, but it felt right to wait an extra beat. To make Nev sweat a bit and add a bit of drama. More than Daphne kissing the groom anyway. If anyone thought they could upstage Pansy Parkinson-soon-to-be-Longbottom on her wedding day, they were dead wrong.

When the mandolin awkwardly restarted the last verse, Pansy decided it was time for her entrance and pulled the curtain apart, gripping her bouquet of mushrooms tightly. She stepped through, making sure her giant, two foot tall, white bedazzled devil's horns wouldn't get caught, and found Neville's eyes.

His face lit up in pure joy for exactly two seconds before he burst out laughing. Bent over, slapping his knee laughing. Louder than the music and more than enough to get the crowd laughing too. Though she watched Ron's mother gasp in horror when she walked by. The Serpaine King mushrooms lit up as she walked down the aisle towards Neville, making her feel like she walked on air.

Neville waited until she finished her walk before scooping her up into a hug, pulling her onto the altar impatiently, sweet lights and their friends surrounding them. The move made the crowd burst into applause and made Pansy feel like a million galleons. Smiling, she grabbed onto his chin and gasped dramatically. _Very_ dramatically. "Have you been kissing another woman? How could you!?"

"I'm having an affair with Daphne," he said, playing along with her, arm around her waist. "The whipped cream, you understand…"

"Oh, well, of course. Whipped cream," Pansy winked at the guests, happy to be in his arms. "I understand. So, you wanna get married now or do you have anything else you need to come clean about?"

"Oh no, let's get married first before I spill my secrets, that way you can't get away."

"Sure! That's not a red flag at all!"

"Marriage will fix all our problems!"

"Okay okay okay, I know from experience this can go on for hours so I'm stopping it before it begins," Tracey shouted over them. "Will you two please, for the love of god, just tie the knot already!?"

Pansy shrugged, her horns tilting to the side a bit. "I guess I'm ready for nuptial enslavement, how about you?"

"I'm totally ready," Neville beamed.

It was the thing she would remember most about the day.

.

They danced. They ate four pieces of cake. Had a bit too much champagne. Shook hands with every guest and then danced some more. He loved her horns and couldn't stop smiling at her.

Ron and Daphne made up… a lot.

Tracey found a dance partner in Tristan Rees and even seemed to enjoy herself.

Neville twirled Pansy around and she found herself getting lost in his eyes like a true sap. "How long before the love runs out?" she asked sweetly, knowing it wouldn't.

"I give it a week," he swung them around, making her grin.

"Five days," she challenged.

"1 day."

"Twenty minutes."

"You two are utterly ridiculous," Ginny said dryly as Harry and her danced nearby. "How do you get anything done?"

"It takes a lot of procrastination and snacks but… eventually…" Pansy shrugged.

"First we like to make things way harder than they have to be," Neville informed her with a smile. "Then we get double the gratification once we've completed the task."

"Exactly!"

"Perfect plan."

They were laughing as a slow song came on and Neville slowed their dance down, pulling her even closer.

"Sometimes," he rocked them back and forth in time with the languid beat. "When I visit my parents, I can tell they know each other. Even after all these years, the Healers say there's no hope for them… but I _know_ they recognize each other. I know it."

"They'd be proud, Nev. Of you. And so would your Gran. They would be proud of the man you are. And seriously concerned about your deranged wife."

Neville laughed so loud the nearest dancers all looked over in concern. Harry leaned in, Ginny on his arm. "Hey Ketchup, 10 galleons say Daph and Ron get married by the end of the year."

"Harry is having one of his delusional ideas again," Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Gotta agree with Weaslette, Harry," Pansy whispered. And they all looked over to the champagne fountain where Ron and Daphne were sucking face like there was no tomorrow. "There's at least 2 more major break ups in store for them. They're both idiots in love."

Hermione and Luna danced by them next, twirling around at a beat far too quick for the song. "I completely concur!" Luna nodded in Pansy's direction. "Daphne isn't getting enough miconioides in her diet, she will keep searching for physical touch to make up for the lack!"

"I also agree," Hermione said with a bewildered smile. "But there's no such thing as miconioides. Ron's never been in love before, so he'll screw this up a few times before getting it right."

Theo followed them with a small pep in his step, shrugging. "What would a miconioide even be?"

Tracey and Tristan twirled by, looking far too chummy to be a good thing. "Uh no, no, no," Pansy pointed at her friend. "Get off my boss, Trace!"

"I'm not 'boss' today, Ms. Parkinson," Tristan smiled slowly, not at all assuring her. "By the way, love the horns. Very… apt."

"You like that?" Tracey asked with subtle enthusiasm.

It was the first time either Pansy or Neville had ever seen Tristan Rees look surprised.

"Why do I feel like something super scary just happened?" Pansy asked him, watching Tristan dance Tracey to the edge of the dance floor and into a dark corner.

"Because it did…" he whispered in her ear.

"HEY!" she grabbed at his suit jacket, suddenly thinking of a grand idea. "Why don't we go visit your parents?"

"Uh, because visiting hours are long over, my delectable little cheese puff," he kissed her temple, not losing rhythm in their dance for even a second. He'd been kissing her temple a lot that night. She had a feeling he was definitely feeling sore. In the crotch area. The temple was a safe place to show affection.

It was sweet.

Even though she was most certainly not sweet.

"So?" she let him lead her around the dance floor. "I'm sure if we show up in our wedding finery they will make an exception."

"St. Mungo's doesn't make exceptions, love."

"Don't you want to find out?" she tugged on his jacket again. "What else are we going to do? Go to the hotel room and not have sex?"

Laughing, he considered it. "Well… true…"

"C'mon Nev," she wrapped her arms around his neck and forced him to lean down so she could look him in the eye. "Wouldn't it be nice to see them on our wedding day? Even for a moment?"

"You're a bad influence on me," he grinned, pressing his forehead against hers. "And I love it. Yeah, I would love to see my parents. Let's do it."

"Dance me to Daph, I have an idea."

Neville dipped her when she wasn't ready, causing her to scream with laughter and clutch onto her horns before they flew off. He pulled her back up and continued on dancing. Slowly making their way around the floor to the champagne fountain. More people kept talking to them, wishing them well, congratulating them, so it took a few minutes.

Finally, "Psst. Hey Daph."

"Ehh?" she came up for air, her lips swollen and cheeks flushed. Maybe that's why Ron called her 'cheeks'?

"We're busy here," Ron snapped, totally annoyed. "You're married now, Nev, your affair with Daph is over."

"Maybe," Pansy grinned slowly. "But her affair with _me_ isn't."

"Sadly, she's right, Ronnie," Daphne purred, licking her lips. "Pansy's my first love."

"Heh heh heh," they laughed perfectly in time together, making both men extremely uncomfortable and… also slightly aroused too.

Then Pansy cleared her throat. "So, Nev and I are on a secret mission to break into St. Mungo's and visit his parents. Can you two cause a big scene so we can make a quick getaway? I'd ask Trace, but she found a rich man and took him to a dark corner."

"Oooo. We'd be happy to," Daphne left Ron's embrace to wrap Pansy up in a massive hug. She pulled Nev in by his neck. "If you hurt my girl, Pansy, I will bash your head in with my horse dildo."

Neville's eyes went as around as an owl's. "I will do what I can to avoid your horse dildo, Daph."

"Good Boy," she patted him on the head. Then she turned around and jumped on Ron, wrapping her legs around his waist. "RONNIE. TIME FOR A CHAMPAGNE BATH."

Neville grabbed Pansy and dashed away just in time before Daphne and Ron tilted right over into the champagne fountain—"WHOA DAPHNE WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!'—causing a _huge_ splash that attracted the attention of everyone around.

Rushing through the gardens, Pansy held the skirt of her dress up so she could take bigger steps and laughed the entire time. Feeling young and giggly. On the way out they both waved to Viola.

"Thanks Vi! We had a good time!"

They dashed all the way to the Apparation Point at the end of the street before Neville took them to St. Mungo's. Giggling—they really did have too much champagne—they stumbled through the broken window and into the better lit reception area of the hospital.

Because of the late hour the room was empty except for the young witch at the reception desk. She looked up in surprise.

"Uh…"

"Right, yes," Pansy held up a finger to buy some time. She didn't want to sound drunk. "It seems we've been… Obliviated. Neither this man nor I remember exactly… how… we got… into this situation we seem to be in…"

Pansy held up her left ring finger, waving her diamond ring around. It shimmered blue and red under the light. Elbowing Nev in his side, he got the gist and did the same with his left hand.

"Neither of you remember getting married?"

They shook their heads no.

"Riiiiight… let me just call a Healer's Aid to escort you up to the 4th floor," the welcome witch offered, picking up an old fashioned rotary phone.

Pansy winked at Nev.

"You're a genius," he whispered out the side of his mouth. "Pure genius."

Another few minutes and the Aid appeared through the doorway behind the welcome desk and marched right over. She stuck a thermometer in Pansy's mouth while using her wand to check Neville, rattling off questions far too quick to get any actual answers. Dragging them to the elevator with little more than a wave of her wand.

A minute later and they were forced into the two most uncomfortable chairs they'd ever sat on in their life.

"Ouch," Pansy complained as a piece of wood stuck her bum. "Who can I speak to about this rough handling?"

"Shush, I need to run some tests. You first, Mr. Longbottom."

"Er-okay," he sat up, being agreeable like always.

Silly man. She kicked his ankle.

"Oh, I mean, is that my name?"

"You don't know your own name?" the Aid asked, suddenly suspicious. "You're here all the time Mr. Longbottom!"

"No… no not really," Neville scratched the back of his head, looking anywhere but at the witch.

"Who cares about him?" Pansy shouted, standing up to draw attention before Neville gave them away. "I can't remember who I am! Test me first! This is a disaster. Look at what I'm wearing?!"

"Ms. Parkinson, we know you too. You come with Neville all the time."

"I've clearly been Obliviated! I don't even know my own birthday!"

She bumped Nev accidentally-on-purpose.

"Yeah, I have to use the restroom anyways," he also stood up, taking a step towards the hallway where he knew the bathroom was. Pausing, he planted his feet a little obviously. "Which… way?..."

The Aid pointed, clearly not amused. Oops. Seems like she needed to cause a bigger fuss.

"I'm just saying, I don't understand why you seem so nonchalant about this. I'm in a wedding dress, with Devil's horns on my head and I don't even remember how I got here!" Pansy marched around the Aid's desk and started throwing papers around, grabbing an empty potion bottle and throwing it into the corner where it broke into pieces.

"Am I meant to be in a play?! Have I been kidnapped? Why isn't anyone helping me? I've clearly been bespelled!"

If there was one thing Pansy knew how to do, it was how to cause a scene. Immediately Healers and the Aids started emerging from rooms to see what all the noise and yelling was about, and in the process missed when Neville slipped into the Permanent Ward.

She pulled out her wand to get them really concerned. "I don't even KNOW HOW TO USE THIS THING BUT I WILL. So HELP me GOD I WILL!"

Pansy jumped up on the nearest chair, pointing her wand out at the crowd. She didn't want to destroy any property or inadvertently get anyone hurt. Just be loud as she could. "Who is in charge here? Do you have any idea who I am? BECAUSE I DON'T. I could be important! Royalty! A Duchess! Duchess Karen! I _demand_ to speak to a manager! You don't know!"

"Well I see you're back Ms. Parkinson," a voice said behind her.

"Uh oh…" she turned and met the steely glare of Rude Ass Healer Man. The one who called her a _hooker_. "That's _Mrs. Longbottom_ to you, you bald headed kumquat face."

"I see you've miraculously recovered your lost memories, _Mrs. Longbottom_ ," he crossed his arms over his Healer's robes. "I took the liberty of sending for Magical Law Enforcement when I saw you in the lobby."

From behind Rude-Ass three Law Enforcement Patrolmen appeared. Coming straight for her.

"THIS IS WHY NO ONE TRUSTS HEALERS, YOU POTION PEDDLING MISCREANTS! I WAS MISDIAGNOSED WITH THE POX AS A GIRL AND I NEVER RECOVERED." Pansy shouted, jumping off the chair and running down the furthest hallway from the Permanent Ward. Except another Healer cut her off. She bumped into his wide chest. "Wow you're very strong. Do you work out? Curls? Push-ups?"

Squeezing his bicep, she tried to slip around and out of his hold but he held her still rather easily until one of the Patrolmen slapped a pair of handcuffs on her.

"Hey, hey, do you think I could-uh-borrow those for later? Me and my guy," she winked at the man-who blushed. "We just met last week but we knew it was right for both of us. He doesn't speak a lick of English but we make it work in the bedroom, ya know, hand gestures..."

"If you say so, ma'am."

"Please escort her off the property," Rude-Ass said, pointing towards the elevators. "Where's the other one? The husband."

"You'll never _take him alive_!" Pansy shouted as she was dragged from the floor and pulled into the elevator.

Like the rest of her day, she seemed to blink and suddenly she was in a holding cell deep within the Ministry of Magic, on the Auror Department floor, while some night guard took her horns. At least he looked impressed.

She pouted as the three Patrolmen who arrested her locked up the cell with a loud metallic clang. In her wedding dress. Somewhere she lost a heel.

She tossed bouncy hair out of her face and crossed her arms until they left. Then she sat back with a sigh of relief. Hopefully she bought enough time for Neville to get a few quality moments with his parents.

Kneeling down, she undid the strap of her remaining white sandal and tossed the heel to the side, then she sat on the bench and yawned. It wasn't long before Neville showed up, escorted by an Auror in full robes, a shiny golden badge pinned to his hip.

"Heya, hubby," she rushed over and embraced him through the bars—and was rewarded with more forehead kisses. "They've arrested me for Drunk and Disorderly Behavior."

"I heard. This is Remi, old friend of mine," he jerked his thumb at the Auror who so far seemed far more pleasant than any of the Patrolmen. He had pleasant brown eyes and a small smile that said friendly, but tough. "They won't let me bail you out because you have a prior arrest?"

"You seem surprised?"

"Well… yeah?" he rubbed her arms up and down through the bars. "I had no idea."

"Oh my sweet, oblivious husband. Daphne, Trace, and I shared a cell for 4 days after the Battle of Hogwarts. We're hardened criminals. Clearly." She grabbed the skirt of her dress and curtsied.

It had been a long four days! No snacks at all.

Remi laughed at least. Neville just looked sour. "I did not know that and I'm really upset to find out about it."

"Don't be," she reached out for his tie, tugging it gently. "That was years ago. I keep my criminal activity to a minimum these days. And did you get to visit your mum and dad?"

He nodded.

"Then it was worth it. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

"Not if we can't be together tonight…" he said, a deep frown on his face. Then he slowly turned towards Remi.

"I would if I could, Nev," he shrugged sadly. "Technically I shouldn't have let you back here at all. I can get you maybe 5 more minutes?"

"Turn away Remi," Pansy said, tugging harder on Nev's tie. "I have to hardcore make out with my man for the next 6 minutes."

"I said 5..."

"And I said 6, Remi, use your damn ears."

"No, I have another idea," Nev said, stepping away from the cell. He shook out his hands in a nervous gesture, bouncing on his feet. "Sorry Remi."

Then he slugged him. Right in the jaw. Hard enough the Auror's lip split. His hand came away with blood afterwards and Pansy had never seen anything like it before.

"What the hell man! You hit me!"

"I'm sorry," Nev held his hands out, one set of knuckles slightly split, ready to be cuffed. "You know I'm a Pacifist since the war, but there's no way I'm not spending tonight with my wife."

"Do realize how much paperwork I'll have to do for this?" Remi pulled out a wand so quickly Pansy blinked and totally missed it. Lifting up, he tapped against the lock and pushed Neville through the cell door without cuffing him. "Go. Be with your wife. Damn lunatics."

"Lunatics is right," Nev said, rushing in and straight to Pansy's open arms.

"Brilliant! Nev! I'm rubbing off on you!"

He squeezed her tight as Remi relocked the door, grumbling the whole time. "I mean it. I'm not spending tonight without you."

"I didn't think I could love you anymore today," she said as he pulled her to the far bench. Sitting down, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she rested against his chest. "Too much love. I'm feeling very _sappy_. All this 'til death parts us, to hold and cherish and spank—"

He grinned, hand snaking down to squeeze her left cheek. With his other hand he pulled her legs over his lap and pushed the chiffon fabric of her dress up, just enough to reveal her feet. He began massaging her right foot, fingers digging into the sole and making her brain turn to _goo_.

"Where are your horns?" he asked suddenly. Which was a shame because coherent thought was no longer possible when he was massaging her.

"Uhm…. dduuuhhhh da… the guard took them. They are rather big," she moaned, leaning back into the bars of the cell and relaxing. She lifted her hand up to his shoulder and began rubbing in, wanting him to relax with her. "Could easily be weaponized in the right situation."

"Fuck," he swore, making her grin. He didn't use to do that either… until she became his bad influence. "Love those things."

It wasn't the wedding night they planned. There was no champagne and bedspread of rose petals. No sweet, sweet love making and feeding each other chocolates and tearing off expensive lingerie or any other romantic drivel. And they couldn't do their aggressive flirting, because Nev still had one day left of potions before getting a koboinger wouldn't cause him pain.

No, instead they sat in jail—but they laughed a lot. Like usual. And talked for a long time, something they could do for hours without getting bored. She kept brushing her thumb over his wedding band. A thick, black ring made of volcanic rock that once belonged to her father. In return, Nev did the same to her. His calloused thumb spinning the square red diamond that once belonged to his mother around her finger with lazy motion as they talked.

It was perfect. Until the door at the far end of the room creaked open.

And spat out the Spawn of Satan. Literally.

Escorted by another Auror, one Pansy didn't recognize.

"Oh GOD, my EYES. IT BURNS!" Pansy shouted, covering her eyes with her arm.

"Bail's been posted, for you only Mr. Longbottom," the Auror informed them, opening the cell door.

Though of course, Neville didn't budge an inch. He continued rubbing her foot with slow, deep movements like he'd been doing all night.

"Oh Nevvy, when I heard you were taken into custody—"

Pansy snorted. "I'm sure you rushed right down here to offer your sympathies."

"And post your bail. I can't leave my favorite guy in prison," Hannah Abbott practically gushed. She stood tall. Lean. Wavy blonde hair and big sexy blue eyes Pansy wanted to stick a fork in. Somehow the witch sold a book about her life after the war, which was a hell of a lot of pictures and not so many words.

"I feel so bad for you," she continued, forcing a pout that usually worked on every nearby man. But not Pansy's guy. Oh no.

Neville wrapped an arm around Pansy's shoulders, pulling her even closer. "Appreciate it, Hannah. But I'm afraid you wasted your time. I'm not leaving without... _my wife_."

"I'm afraid we can't keep you here, Mr. Longbottom," the unknown Auror said.

"Yeah…" Neville started slowly. "There's no way I'm leaving this cell with you, Hannah. I'm sure you have some reporter from the Prophet just waiting for that shot of us leaving together on my wedding night."

"Nevvy, I haven't the faintest idea what you mean," Hannah simpered, leaning against the bars coyly. "I'm just trying to help out an old friend. Jackie," she turned to the Auror. "Do you think I could get a couple of minutes? I promise not to waste too much of your time, darling."

Pansy gagged as the Auror did what Hannah asked, acting more like a dog instead of a trained Auror. Did he have no respect for himself?

As he walked out, someone else slipped in. Someone Hannah didn't notice. Pansy recognized the satchel over his shoulder. He was a reporter for the Prophet. Great. Just great. Her hatred for the Prophet burned bright—they loved Hannah Abbott and her entire narrative. Which was mostly made up balderdash with a big splash of omission. OF THE TRUTH.

She and Nev were having such a nice night, locked up in prison together and Abbott and her damn harem of reporters had to come along and ruin it. "She's trying to get publicity for her book. You know. The one where she referred to you as 'The One Who Got Away'."

"Oh right," Nev nodded, as if only just remembering. "The one that didn't even mention the Memoriam."

"Or how she married Macmillan."

"Or how she broke his heart."

"Or how she—"

"Are you two done yet?" Hannah asked, crossing her arms. But that fake ass demeanor finally dropped now that the Auror was gone. "You do realize I could get you in on this? The money is fabulous. Our love triangle could make us bags and bags of gold if we play it right. The _Prophet_ simply adores stories on us."

"Yeah, Hannah, we prefer to, you know, _work_ for a living," Pansy rolled her eyes. "I know the concept is completely foreign to you."

"Work smart, not hard! These saps eat it up. Old witches looking for a thrill in their boring, ugly lives. And it's not like the _Prophet_ is hard to manipulate. I have them eating out of my hands. Parkinson, join me. You and I can make bank. Coordinating our efforts and we can drum up a serious drama. The publicity is never-ending. Then comes the book deals and interviews, plus all the perks of being famous. Tickets! First rate seats at Quidditch games and concerts and parties! It's amazing what lengths people will go to just to get you at their event. _Join me_!"

As a sale, it might've worked. On anyone else besides Pansy. Who would literally do anything for Nev, the man who proved, nearly every single day, exactly how much he loved her and cared for her friends so dearly. Who would rather spend a night in jail than be without her.

"Don't Pansy," Nev said, trying to keep her from standing. "Don't play into what she wants."

"Trust me, love," she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I would never do anything crazy. Gosh. I'm such a reasonable person."

"Aw, hell," Nev shook his head. "We're never getting out of here."

Silly man. Pansy walked over to the open cell door, firmly staying on the line that divided inside from out and waited for Abbott to come meet her. The witch still hadn't noticed the reporter fervently writing in the corner, taking down the entire exchange.

"First, Macmillan," Pansy said with a hefty amount of disrespect. "My name is not Parkinson. It's _Longbottom_. And secondly, I'll remind you that you hurt him and discarded him. You purposely, with every intention, betrayed him and his love for you and I _will never forgive you for it_ , no matter how grateful I am that he ended up with me instead. And I will never join forces with you, you ugly, mushy waste of oxygen. You think I care about the bloody Prophet dragging my name through the mud? They've been doing it since I was 18. I'm not afraid of them. Or you. Come near us again, and I promise, you will regret it."

Pansy smirked. "Did you get all that?" she asked the reporter in the corner.

"Oh yes, yes I did," he said, breathless from excitement, his quill moving quick.

Hannah spun on her toe, looking over at the new voice in shock.

"Oh, one more thing," Pans continued, tapping on Hannah's shoulder. "I warned you before that if you tried to hurt Neville again I would do this…"

Hannah made a strangled question of a sound when she turned, looking positively mortified and Pansy punched her as hard as she possibly could. Right in Hannah's perfectly shaped nose.

"Now _that_ you can put in the paper."

.

Pansy and Neville returned from their honeymoon, a little tanner and with a few sexually acquired bruises. Seriously. She'd never had so much sex in her life. They missed a lot of their originally planned itinerary because they couldn't get out of bed.

And why would they when the view out of their hotel window showed azure blue waters and a sea that went on forever. They were both lazy by nature which meant room service.

It was perfect.

They dropped off their luggage and made it over to the townhouse with a few souvenirs and a box of chocolate and hazelnut flavored cannolis, slices of tiramisu cake, and lemon and cherry sfogliatella. Plenty of goodies for the girls.

Pansy burst in with her foot. "YOO HOO, I HAVE PASTRIES!"

From the three bedrooms came a walloping of noise. Tracey appeared first, slightly out of breath, rushing towards the kitchen where Pansy and Neville began unloading their loot.

In Daphne's room they heard a shout—definitely Ron's—and a slight squeal of excitement before Daphne came through, pulling on a Chudley Cannons shirt that came down to her knees.

From her bedroom they heard Ron shout, "DAPHNE, UNTIE ME. I WANT PASTRIES TOO!"

"Did you say," Tracey sucked in breath. "Pastries?"

"Yep," Pansy held the box of sfogliatella out. "Ooo, you want it? You want it?"

Tracey tried to catch the box, just missing every time. From the middle room, Luna glided out in full on khaki gear, a wide safari hat on her head, and a tan-green backpack on. "Pastries? That sounds so lovely. How was your honeymoon, by the way? Did you take that fertility potion I made for you?"

"Uh, you bet I did," Pansy lied.

Hell no she did not. She would not mind getting pregnant with Neville, but they both said they wanted to wait a bit if they could. And whatever had been in that phial which was weirdly labia shaped had smelt of copper and fishy things—right before it went down the drain in the hotel bathroom. YUCK.

"Don't tease her, love," Nev nudged Pansy a little closer. Just enough so Tracey could grab the box with excited hands.

"A slice of cake, Luna?" Pansy offered. They had a ton of tiramisu. Weird. So strange. How could that have happened? Her and Nev's favorite dessert ever and they managed to get a whole of it? Super weird. Yep.

"Perhaps when I return. By the way, I've decided to rent the third room here. Expect my deposit slip soon."

"Sounds good to me," Pansy hugged the strange witch before she disappeared through the front door, holding up what looked like a dog whistle.

"She's very strange," Daphne said, leaning against the bar top behind the kitchen sink. "I love her. I could marry her honestly."

"Cheeks… please untie me?" Ron shouted again, his voice much more pleading than before. "And don't marry Luna!"

"You've been a bad boy, Ron Weasley. No pastries for you!" Daphne smirked as Neville handed her the box of cannolis. "Take this time to think about what you did!"

"Uggghghghhhh!" he cried out in frustration.

"What did he do?" Pansy asked, grabbing a fork so she could feed Neville tiramisu.

Daphne turned around, pulling her t-shirt up and revealing her right buttcheek. Where a very shiny, very red hand print marred the pale cream of her skin.

Neville turned away to start coffee and not ogle at Daphne's bear ass, but Tracey and Pansy both leaned in. "Whoa! He got you good!"

"Damn, Nev never gets me that hard," Pansy pouted.

"That's because a light touch works twice as well, love," he grinned, but kept his back firmly towards Daphne.

"We need a paddle. I'm definitely buying a paddle."

"Sweetie," Daphne purred. "You can look, Ron won't mind."

"Hell yes Ron does too mind!" came Ron's shout from the bedroom, followed by what sounded like the bed scooting across the floor. "Untie me witch! Damn you! I want pastries!"

Daphne giggled overly loudly, "Oh Neville, you tease! Don't touch me there! I have a boyfriend now."

"Uh, I'm not. Definitely not. Why are you trying to get me killed, Daph?"

"Grrrr!"

"All week she's been using Ron's jealousy to get her rocks off, that's what," Tracey informed them between bites of her sfogliatella.

"Oh." Nev turned around, met Pansy's fork and took a bite of cake. "Mmm. Guess we should go back to Positano, Pansy. For my continued safety."

"I'm fine with that, except I have to go back to work."

"Damn, me too. Adulting. Ugh."

"You two are gross," Tracey snatched her box of pastries and made for her bedroom. "Glad you're back. We missed you."

"Hand me a fork, Neville?" Daphne asked sweetly, coming around the counter to take a slice of cake. "I have to go feed my pet."

She lifted up on her tiptoes to press a kiss into Neville's cheek. "And you can come join if you'd like, Mr. Longbottom."

"NO HE CAN'T!" Ron shouted.

"Maybe next time," Neville smiled, handing her a fork. "Enjoy."

A minute after Daphne returned to her room, shutting the door with a firm hand, they heard a slap of something hard against flesh followed by Ron screaming out far louder than previously.

"This is the House of Chaos," Neville laughed, feeding her tiramisu.

"Mmm," Pansy moaned. Legitimately. Coffee, chocolate, and cream flooded her mouth. She loved tiramisu! "Anymore of that and I will definitely get slutty with you, Mr. Longbottom."

"Good," he told her, pulling her closer and feeding her a second bite. She took her time sucking the bit of cake off his fork, making sure her eyes never left his. "Just don't, you know, break my damn cock again."

"Wow, one time," Pansy rolled her eyes before reaching up and pressing a hot and heavy kiss to his mouth. One that tasted like cake.

"One time too many," he said a full minute later. "TOO MANY."

"Okay! OKAY! I'm sorry. Again. I will apologize over and over and I won't do it again… on purpose…"

"Pansy…" he chided.

"You know, I fell in love with you in this very spot," she said, aiming to distract. She stole the fork away and fed him another bite.

"Mmm," he licked his lips. "The groceries?"

"Yep," she smiled just remembering that feeling the night he bought her groceries when she'd been broke and starving and upset. Being so astounded and overwhelmed at the gesture opened her up in a way she simply hadn't ever been before. Opened up to the idea of being with him.

Being in love with him.

He crowded her against the sink, eyes growing darker as he cupped her face with a gentle hand, the other firmly gripping around her waist. "I will never let you go hungry again."

Damn that man took her breath away. "I know."

"Never."

"I know," she repeated, pressing their foreheads together.

Then they heard Tracey's door open and bare feet walking across the floor. "Sorry to interrupt this moment, but I made you two something while you were honeymooning."

Pansy looked over to her beloved friend, still wrapped up in Neville's arms. He pressed lower, until his face was hidden in her neck. She felt and heard him shudder out a breath, as if to reorient himself. Then he stood up and smiled at Tracey.

"Oh, I really did interrupt a moment, didn't I?" she held what must've been a picture frame, wrapped in brown paper. "Sorry…"

"No apologies necessary, what's up, Trace?" Pansy breathed out.

"I got something for you to hang up on your wall. I know you'll love it." She set it gently on the counter next to them, her dark cheeks slightly creased from embarrassment. "Open it later, when you're home. . . Love you guys."

Then she rushed off.

"God Forbid that witch show any hard emotion," Pansy rolled her eyes. "Alright, my delicious little treat I just want to eat all up. Ready to go home?"

"I'm ready if you are," Nev smiled sweetly down at her, hand squeezing around her middle.

Pansy smirked. "I was talking to the tiramisu."

.

30 minutes later and Pansy was hammering a nail into the wall at home and hanging up a simple brown picture frame. It was a newspaper clipping. Of her. In her wedding dress. Punching Hannah Abbott in the face.

What an amazing life she led.


End file.
